“I
remember my brother Johnny vividly and I’m 77 years old,”
said Joseph Fry, sitting down at the outside café talking to a
reporter from the Kansas City Star.

“It
has been a long time but he was my hero and still is. He was the best
rider in the whole town of St. Joe! I thought he was 6’ tall
and weighed 200 lbs., but I was only 9 years old. In reality he was
only 20 years old and small. He couldn’t have weighed any more
than 120 lbs. I was a young kid at the time but it is still clear as
a bell ringing. I know this because I remember our conversation just
like it was yesterday. It was in the spring of 1860. We were in St.
Joe with our Stepfather buying supplies and the Pony Express was just
starting up.”

“Johnny,
whatcha reading?” Joe, his brother asked as they sat on the
porch of the General Feed and Seed Store.

“You
don’t need to know everything I’m reading and doing Joe.
You’re just a little pain, you know that?” Johnny said,
grabbing his little brother and wrestling with him like big brothers
do.

“Let
me go, I’ll read it myself,” Joe said struggling to get
loose from his brother grasp.

“You
can’t read this. You ain’t old enough even if you could,
you little stink bug,” Johnny said laughing and releasing his
grip on Joe.

“ Give
it here and I’ll show you,” Joe said struggling free and
regaining his stance.

“Well,
what does it say?” Johnny said while giving him the handbill.

“Pony…
Pony ik-s..pa..res,” he said trying to sound out the words.

“Here,
give it to me,” Johnny said snatching the handbill back from
Joe’s hands.

“It’s
for hiring riders for the Pony Express. It says here that they want:

‘Young,
skinny, wiry fellows not over eighteen. Must be expert riders,
willing to risk death daily. Orphans preferred’."1

“But
you ain’t no orphan, and you ain’t eighteen neither.”

“You
don’t know nothing Joe. They don’t care about a couple of
years. I’m the best rider in this part of the country. I won’t
have no problem getting this job. They may even come look for me,”
Johnny said mussing up Joe’s hair.

“Why
do they want orphans,” Joe asks agreeing with Johnny’s
assumption about age and knowing he was a great rider.

“Oh,
they’re just funning. They don’t mean it. It’s just
a way to make the job more exciting, and don’t go telling ma
about this neither, she’ll think they are serious. You hear
me?”

“Yeah,
I hear you.”

“Anyway,
Billy says they’ll pay $100.00 a month. I can’t pass that
up. I’ll be rich in no time at all.”

“One
hundred dollars? I ain’t never seen a hundred dollars? Maybe
when I get older I can get a job too?” Joe said smiling
broadly, “When you gonna apply?”

“Now!
I’m going over to the stables and put my two bits in right now.
I suspect they will hire me on the spot with my reputation for riding
and winning horse races. Come on, you can go with me.”

Just
then he felt something against his legs. He jumped back and looked at
a kitten purring and rubbing against his legs. It was black,
jet-black.

“That
cat scared you didn’t it? “Joe asked giggling.

“Where
did that cat come from? He didn’t scare me, but I was
surprised. I didn’t see him come up did you?”

“I
didn’t see him come up neither.”

“Scat,”
Johnny said, kicking the cat lifting it up in the air as it squalled
and ran under the porch of the feed store.

“That
is all I need is a black cat crossing in front of me, especially
since I’m trying to get a good paying job. The boys will all be
lined up,” Johnny said looking back at where the cat ran under
the porch.

“I
don’t like cats, especially black cats,” he said noticing
the yellow, glowing eyes peering out in an eerie, evil fashion from
under the steps.

“Pa
says it’s bad luck to kick a cat,” Joe said.

“Oh,
they just say that so you won’t run ‘em off. They keep
the mice out of the house, but I still don’t like black cats.
They look evil to me, and generally mean something bad is gonna
happen. I saw one yesterday slinking around the barn. I ain’t
seen it before neither,” Johnny said as they walked into the
feed store.

Johnny
told his dad that he and Joe would be right back, and that he was
going over to the stables. He did not mention the Pony Express job or
the cat.

“We
went on over to the stables and sure enough they hired Johnny right
then. I can still remember the Oath they made Johnny take.”

“While
I am the employ of A. Majors, I agree not use profane language, not
to get drunk, not to gamble, not to treat animals cruelly and not to
do anything else that is incompatible with the conduct of a
gentleman. And I agree, if I violate any of the above conditions, to
accept my discharge without any pay for my services.”2

“I
told Johnny he better not kick any more cats and he just looked at me
and said they didn’t mean that. He said they were talking about
beating horses, that they were concerned about damaging them.

Mr.
Majors really liked Johnny and selected him to be the first rider
taking the first leg of the trip to Seneca, Kansas about 80 miles
away. They had originally wanted another rider but he missed his
train connection and was late arriving.

It
was an exciting time. A crowd gathered and our whole family was
there. The Mayor gave a speech and it was like a circus come to town.
Johnny was so proud. They gave him the mail pouch (Mochila). It fit
over the special Pony Express Saddle.

He
rode down to the river and took the ferry across and he was off on
his adventure and we all cheered as he sailed away across the river.
He would be going only 80 miles but he had to wait for the mail on
the return trip. He would be back in about 10 days ready for another
trip to Seneca.

He
had some great stories. One in particular I remember was the one
about the girls waiting along the route and would chase Johnny down

and give him cakes and different stuff like that. He said they made
them round and cooked them in grease and they had a hole in the
middle. I think that is where donuts came from, they was easy to
carry and handle from horseback.

One
gal rode up to him as he galloped along saying she wanted his red
bandana to sew into a Log Cabin Quilt. Johnny just smiled and said
no, and that he liked his tie. He said he smiled at her, in a playful
manner spurring his horse and galloped away, but the determined gal
stayed up with him and reached out to snatch the red bandana from his
neck. As he lurched to the side she grabbed his shirttail and ripped
off a piece. He laughed telling the story and speculated that part of
that old shirt was now in a quilt somewhere between St. Joe and
Seneca!“

The
reporter studied the old man relating the story and noticed a
twinkling glimmer in his eye as he recounted his conversations with
his brother so many years ago. Then the old man stopped and looked
around and his eyes became misty as he noticed a small black kitten
sitting at the edge of the patio hoping for a morsel of food. The old
man took his cane and smacked it against the concrete floor and
shouted.

“Get!”

The
black kitten scampered away only to stop and look back with those
same yellow, piercing, evil eyes of the cat Johnny had kicked so many
years ago and the memory came rushing back.

“Paw
said it was bad luck to kick a cat and I guess it was, of course he
wasn’t really our Paw but we called him that cause he took all
of us in after our real Paw died. Anyway, it was to be bad luck for
Johnny.

He
never was the same after his friend Billy got killed when a band of
Paiutes chased him down. There was twelve of them and they had
fresher horses than Billy and he had to make a fight of it in the
rocks. He got a good vantage and killed 7 of those devils before they
got him. He was riddled with arrows when they found him right after
it happened. They heard Billy firing from the station but couldn’t
get there in time to save him. He was only fourteen years old. He
didn’t have no family.

They
found seven of those red devils littered around him, but they didn’t
scalp him because he fought so bravely.

When
I saw that damn cat I couldn’t help but remember that they said
there was a Black Panther there when they arrived. Of course it ran
off and they couldn’t get a shot at it! But they talked about
its evil appearance and it yellow eyes. “

The
reporter said, “But I thought you said it was bad luck for
Johnny. It appears it was bad luck for his friend Billy?”

“Well,
it was, but the worst was to come. After two years they finished
building the Telegraph all the way to California so, there was no
need for the Pony Express. Johnny lost his job.

Then
the war broke out and Johnny joined up with the Union Army under
General Blunt. He was a courier and was sent over through Baxter
Springs with an important message.3 While
on the way Cy Gordon and five Creek Indians tried to capture Johnny
when he came upon the Neosho River. It had been raining hard and he
had to swim the river to get across all the while the scoundrels were
shooting at him. He made it across and into Baxter Springs without a
scratch but got everything wet.

He
reported in and changed his clothes and ate. Then he decided to go
out and check his pistol by firing them. Two more men from the Third
Wisconsin went with him going beyond the lines toward the river ford.
As they were firing their weapons at a target a troop of men came up
dressed in blue uniforms but, they were part of Quantrill’s
bushwhackers...”

“Quantrill’s raiders!”

“Run
for your lives boys! It’s guerrillas,” Johnny shouted.

One
of the men from the 3rd Wisconsin said, “Wait a minute we are
expecting the Militia from Carthage.”

“Then
the firing started. Johnny dropped one and the other man shot two
before they fell in a hail of bullets.

They
went through their pockets and one of the dead men was hacked with a
Bowie Knife across the forehead. Johnny had six bullet holes in his
body. He didn’t have a chance.

The
funny thing about all this is next morning when they went out to
search for them they said there was a black cat curled up next to
Johnny and when they came up on ‘em it arched its back and
squalled at them in such a manner they were stopped in their tracks.
The cat whirled around and scampered off into the brush stopping to
look back with its evil, yellow eyes and then disappeared into the
under growth.

So
that is why I say it was bad luck for Johnny. He was my hero, a good
brother and the first rider for the Pony Express!”

The
article appeared in the next Sunday edition of the Kansas City Star. It was entitled,
“Bad luck for Johnny!”

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pony_Express.

2.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pony_Express

3. The Border and the Buffalo, by John R.
Cook

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